


Rooftop Conversations

by Icka M Chif (mischif)



Series: Rooftop Conversations [1]
Category: Magic Kaitou, Meitantei Conan | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friendship, Gen, Late Night Conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-21
Updated: 2010-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-13 03:57:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/499197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischif/pseuds/Icka%20M%20Chif
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Conan and the Kaitou Kid decided they wanted to sit on a rooftop, eat snacks and discuss various random topics. So they did.<br/>Small conversations bring big changes.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Archetypes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conan and the Kaitou Kid decided they wanted to sit on a rooftop, eat sorbet and discuss anime archetypes. So they did.

* * *

 

“So you have two main types of heroes.” Conan lectured, waving his small wooden spoon around as he did so. “The ‘Naive but Pure Hearted’ character, which you are not-“

The Kaitou Kid snorted, his mouth full of raspberry sorbet.

”-And the ‘Tragic Hero trying to Make Up For Something In their Past’ type.”

”More like before my past started.” The thief muttered quietly, stabbing his ice with a vicious gesture. Conan was pretty sure that he wasn’t supposed to hear the comment, but kept his mouth shut, hoping that the thief would let more secrets drop.

”Of course, that’s assuming that you are in the hero role.” Conan couldn’t help but helpfully add as he dug into his lemon sorbet.

”Hah.” Kid snorted and kicked his feet slightly, heedless of the fact that the street was many stories below him. Of course, Conan was doing the same thing, but straddling the edge of the rooftop for safety. But what he could see of the thief’s face looked pleased.

When he’d opened up his copy of this week’s Shonen Sunday to read as an after-dinner treat, he’d been rather amazed to discover a note book marking the start of Ifrit: Danzai no Enjin. It simply asked what his thoughts on Yu and Ninami’s predicament versus the organisation that changed them were. On the bottom had been a caricature of the Kaitou Kid’s grinning face.

And on the back had been two words written in pen. ‘Rooftop’ and a time. Which lead him to the current predicament.

”I still can’t believe that you invited me up here to discuss the latest Shonen Sunday series.” Conan muttered. He was still slightly wary, unsure of what to make of the invitation, or the offer of sorbet. But it seemed that the Kaitou Kid mostly wanted a chance to relax and talk, so he was holding off on using Agasa’s toys. And he had to admit that the Italian Ices were good, after sampling a taste of the Kid’s to make sure they weren’t poisoned. “I don’t care what your real age is, aren’t you a bit old to be reading children’s books?”

The Kaitou Kid carelessly pointed to his nose. “Kid.” He said with a lazy shrug.

There were days that Conan could have cursed his father for mistaking the numbers ‘1412’ with the English letters ‘K-I-D’.

”There's not really anyone else I can discuss them with.” The Kid mused, talking with the small wooden spoon dangling from his lower lip. “S’not like I can walk up to Nakamori-keibu and ask what he thought of this week’s Hayate the Combat Butler.”

Now that was a scary thought. Right up there with Nakamori-keibu wearing Maria’s frilly apron. ”What about that other one?” Conan waved his spoon around in small circles. “The blond. Hakuba?”

He got the impression from the thief’s shadowed face that the Kid was raising a sceptical eyebrow at him. “Can you -see- him reading manga? I think the world would fall off its axis.”

... He had a point.

”Okay, so Shonen series archetypes, you have the Hero, the Best Friend and/or Sidekick, the Love Interest, the Magical Assistant, the emo Rival and the Evil Organisation.” The Kaitou Kid carried on, leaning back to look at the sky, his face still shrouded in shadow. “Not including helper characters, such as Grandparents, Mad Scientists, Fan Service and Racer X.”

”I still say you’re over-simplifying it.” Conan grumbled, digging out a particularly stubborn piece of ice from his sorbet and ignoring the Speed Racer reference.

The Kid waved a dismissive hand. “We could spend all night coming up with archetypes and mixing them together.”

Conan mused it over, coming up with at least nineteen different variations. He shrugged and ate his sorbet, refraining from agreeing with the thief. “If it was my series, it means that you’d be the mysterious helper from the shadows instead of the hero.”

”There are worse things.” Kid dismissed it. ”Besides, you’re obviously the second type of hero as well, ‘Making up for Sins of the Past’.”

Conan made a face at that. That was true, he was far from naïve, if he had ever been. ”Agasa-hakase is definitely the helper type.” Ran fell under both ‘Love Interest’ and ‘Best Friend’, seeing as they were childhood friends.

”What about that Shonen Tantei of yours?” The Kid asked thoughtfully. “I would think they’d see life as a Role Playing Game.”

They did fit the parameters listed, and there was the Mysterious Organisation that shrunk him as the Evil group. “Wait a minute.” His eyes narrowed as looked at the Kid, as patterns shifted and fell into a different alignment in his head. “If you switched it for ‘Naïve’ hero, that would make Mitsuhiko the Hero, Ayumi the Love Interest, Genta the Sidekick, Haibara the Magical User and me as the emo Rival.”

The experienced Rival, who knew everything that the Naïve Hero didn’t, helped to teach and push the Hero’s boundaries.

Conan slumped. “I’m not even the main character in my own series.”

The Kid patted him on the shoulder with a commiserating air. “At least you still have one.”

-fin-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> __[Akemi's 19 Anime Archetypes](http://www3.telus.net/akemi/lj/pdf/animearchetypes.pdf) (PDF format), [Encyclopedia Dramatica's list of Animu Archetypes](http://www.encyclopediadramatica.com/Animu_Archetypes).  
>  Ifrit and Hayate are current series running in Shonen Sunday, alongside Detective Conan. Speed Racer is not. Standard disclaimers apply.


	2. Archetypes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Conan and the Kaitou Kid, sitting on the roofotp, eating popsicles and discussing who they would[Marry, Shag or Throw off a Cliff](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fuck,_Marry,_Kill)._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sprung from a discussion with Gracie about [this video](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0fVwJVy-rgM) with John Barrowman and David Tennant. I still say Kaito's answer would vary depending on which version of him you were dealing with at the time.

* * *

“Marry, Shag or Throw off a Cliff?”

”Eh?” Conan looked sideways at his night time companion.

”I said-“ The Kaitou Kid licked the side of his popsicle before the dark purple berry stain reached his white gloves before repeating himself. “Marry, Shag or Throw off a Cliff.”

”Yes.” Conan frowned, wondering not for the first time about the thief’s sanity. “I thought that’s what you said.”

”Marry, Shag or Push off a Cliff. Bed, Wed or Dead. However you want to put it.” The Kid shrugged. “It’s a game. Marriage would be for life, Shag would be a one-night stand you’d never seen again and push off a cliff, they’re splat, dead. So between myself, Hattori Heiji and the Neechan sleeping below, which would you choose?”

”Which I would Marry, which I would ‘Shag’-“

”Or Fuck!” The Kid said, the word sounding cheerfully vulgar on his tongue. Conan ignored him.

”-And which one I would Throw off a Cliff.” He finished dryly.

”Yup.” The Kid swung his foot, looking amused. But then he usually did, from what little Conan could see of his face.

”And you’re asking -me- this.” Conan added sceptically. Him. The one stuck in the body of an elementary school student. Which meant all he could do was stand there while Ran smiled and giggled when guys flirted with her and Sonoko. And could only offer empty platitudes when she then cried on the phone because she missed him. He glowered and sucked on his orange popsicle.

Life sucked.

He got a shrug in return. “You’re the one who keeps going on about having your original brain in a tiny body.” The thief pointed out. “It’s a game. Relax, would you? It’s not a life or death decision.”

Even if it sort of was, since they were talking about pushing someone off a cliff. “Fine.” He sighed. “Between Yourself, Hattori and Ran, I’d marry Ran, have a one-night affair with Hattori and throw you off a cliff, because you’d probably enjoy it with that hang-glider of yours.”

”See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Kid asked, giving him a small salute with the mixed berry popsicle.

Conan gave him a dirty look back. The ‘Push off a Cliff’ option was sounding good, even if the hang-glider made it a moot point. He glanced down at the street below them. Although, four stories wasn’t quite enough distance for a glider to work well….

”Hattori, Hakuba Saguru and Myself.” He countered pointing his popsicle at the Kaitou Kid. “Marry, Shag or Throw off a Cliff?”

”Hmmm.” The Kid made a thoughtful noise as he stuck the popsicle in his mouth and meditatively slowly push/pulled it in and out. Conan bit the end off of his, looking out into the distance again. The Kid just had to bring the most phallic food he could find tonight, didn’t he? “Couldn’t I just shag you all before throwing you off a cliff?”

”No.”

”Ah, well.” The Kid leaned backwards, looking up at the sky. “It was a lovely thought.” He said with such a pleased wistful tone that Conan wasn’t entirely sure it was faked. He almost asked Kid if he was thinking individually or all together for that particular activity, then bit down on his popsicle instead, the sudden burst of cold giving him a brain freeze. He grimaced, rubbing his head.

”Hmm. Well.” Kid said, giving him a concerned look that he waved off. “If I married Hakuba, I’d pretty much be guaranteed a clean house.”

”Yeah, but you’d have to put up with him every day of your life.” Conan pointed out. Not that he had much against the other detective, but there really was only so much sarcasm one could handle in their daily life before wanting to kill someone.

”Point.” The Kid nodded, licking his popsicle again. “Then I’d Marry Hattori, Shag Hakuba and throw you off a cliff!” He said brightly.

”What?” Conan sat upright. “Why?!”

”I’d Shag Hakuba because then I could see if there really was a stick up his arse-“ Kid listed off and Conan made a mental note to repeat that to the British Detective at his nearest convenience. “-Hattori I’d Marry cause he seems like he’d be rather laid back and flexible and I’d throw you off a cliff because either of the former activities would break more legal and moral rules than I care to think of, your original age or not.”

So he’d rather kill him instead. Lovely. “And if I was my original form?”

”Then I’d shag you and throw Hakuba off a cliff.” The Kid said matter-of-factly. “-But not before shagging him first.”

Conan thought about it for a minute, nibbling on the end of the sticky sweet sugar coated stick. “So what you’re saying...” He drawled slowly. “Is that no matter how you look at it, you’re ending up screwed by a detective.”

Although, technically, the detectives were generally the ones getting screwed during a Kaitou Kid heist. So a bit of turnabout seemed to be fair play.

Especially when the Kaitou Kid makes a sulking noise, resting his chin on a hand, elbow on one bent knee. “Couldn’t I be thrown off the cliff instead?”

-fin-


	3. Belief.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Conan and the Kaitou Kid, sitting on the rooftop, talking about belief and the power it holds_  
>  Inspired by a conversation by Lupin and Gainmard in 'The Escape of Arsene Lupin'.

* * *

“The reason why people can’t catch me-“ Kid said, looking down at the drop below his feet with an enigmatic smile on his face, his cape waving to the side him like a giant white wing. “-is because they don’t –believe- they can.”

Conan snorted, the noise muffled by the ice cream cone he was eating. Vanilla for him, Chocolate for the Kaitou Kid tonight. “Bullshit.” He said devoutly. He really should stop these nighttime visitations with the Kaitou Kid. He had a whole list of reasons to stop them, varying anywhere from legal to irritation.

”I’m serious.” The Kaitou Kid said, giving him a look that bordered on hurt.

”So am I.” Conan scowled back. ”You’re uncatchable because you’re good. Not because of some sort of belief or hocus pocus.”

”It’s not hocus pocus.” Kid said loftily.

”You’re the one telling me people can’t catch you because they believe that they can’t.” Conan shrugged. “You’re flesh and blood just like every other human being.”

”Ah.” Kid smirked, raising his ice cream in a mocking salute. “But I am a –Phantom- Thief, am I not?”

Conan grunted, not bothering to answer that. Kid snickered, licking his dripping ice cream before it reached his white gloves.

”It’s not easy.” Kid said contemplatively.

”To be uncatchable?”

”To set up that kind of belief.” Kid looked upwards, as if contemplating the stars. “People want to believe, but at the same time they’re jaded. There’s always that little bit of doubt. Have you ever heard of the ‘Gellerini’?”

”Followers of Uri Geller in the 1970s.” Conan shrugged, staring at his ice cream. “Mostly debunked as frauds, using tricks to pretend that they had powers, such as bending spoons.”

”They had the powers.” Kid said with a smile. “At least some did. But their abilities were highly unstable so they turned magician tricks to try to cover up their loss of abilities.” He kicked his feet, still looking up at the stars. “People didn’t believe that they could do what they could do. Attempting to maintain their psychic abilities with that much negative thought being thrown at them crippled them.”

Conan raised a sceptical eyebrow. “They thought they could bend spoons, so they could. But enough people told them they couldn’t-“

”-And they couldn’t.” Kid nodded.

Conan’s expression turned shrewd. ”So if enough people thought that they could catch you-“

Kid smirked back, claws sheathed in silk, silently daring Conan to try it. “Doubtful.”

Conan smirked back. The silent stand off lasted a while before they both turned away, neither winning the staring contest.

”Doesn’t matter how many detectives or officers think they can catch me.” The Kid continued, licking his ice cream contemplatively. “From the beginning, they chase me knowing I have never been caught. So therefore there is always that shred of doubt they can as well. The public at large believes that I am uncatchable. Therefore through their belief, I am.”

”A psychological edge.” Conan dismissed it easily. “A strong enough will can conquer that.”

”As long as there doesn’t exist any doubt.” Kid raised his ice cream in a mock salute. “Your Ran-neechan believes that you are Shin’ichi, but she doubts-“

”I got it.” Conan growled, cutting him off with a glare. “So if I wanted to catch you-“

Kid grinned. “Do you believe you can?”

”Yes.” Conan’s answer was without hesitation.

Kid’s grin grew wider. “Without a shadow of a doubt?”

Conan didn’t bother answering. He reached out to grab the Kid…

And touched nothing but air.

-fin-

The Gellerini references were thanks to the [Ghost Hunt](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ghost_Hunt) series. If you like paranormal, paranormal science and detectives, check it out.


	4. Late night plunnie'd.

"If you love something, set it free." Kid quoted as he stared up at the stars from his perch on the Mouri residence rooftop. "If it comes back to you, it's yours forever. If it doesn't, it never was."

"Unless you're a homicidal maniac." Conan snarked, just a touch of bitterness in his tone. "Then, it's 'If it doesn't, hunt it down and kill it." He'd had such a case earlier today and the memories distastefully lingered.

"Or a bad fanfic." Kid shrugged. "In which case, if it comes back to you, it's probably Stockholm Syndrome."

"Thank you 'Mr. I Break the Fourth Wall'."

-fin-


	5. Tell Me a Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Conan and the Kaitou Kid, sitting on the rooftop, lying to each other._

* * *

“I am-” Kid said dramatically, raising a white gloved hand as if to cup the moon in his palm.”-A fellow of infinite jest.”

”You are Yorick?” Conan raised an eyebrow, his hands tucked into his pockets, the warm chestnuts Kid had brought with him this visit keeping him from freezing. It was one thing to hang out on a rooftop with an internationally wanted thief in the summer, and another to do so in the winter. Not nearly quite as pleasant.

”Better than Hamlet.” Kid said, dropping his hand back down. In deference to the weather, he had a scarf wrapped around his neck, the same red as his tie, breath misting silver in the dim light. “No, I find I much prefer Mercutio.”

”Now there is a fellow of infinite jest.” Conan snickered, shelling a chestnut and popping the warm sweet nut in his mouth.

”Quite.” Kid said with an odd twist of his lips. “Ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man’.”

”Better Mercutio than Romeo.” Conan nodded. Even if Mercutio did die way too soon.

”What?” Kid smirked, obviously silently laughing at him. “No ‘pair of star-cross'd lovers’-?”

Conan made a face. ”In case you hadn’t noticed, but they both die at the end.”

”Hmm. True.” Kid made a thoughtful sound, shelling a chestnut of his own and munching on it. “Yea, noise? then I'll be brief. O happy dagger! This is thy sheath; there rust, and let me die.’”

”Someone’s in a morbid mood tonight.” Conan commented. Juliet’s last words as she died on Romeo’s corpse. Kid usually had something on his mind when he came to talk, but they always had to dance around the topic a bit first.

”Possibly.” Kid shrugged. “The devil speaks truth much oftener than he's deemed. He has an ignorant audience.’.”

”Dante?” Conan slowly peeled another nut, trying to get the shell to break apart evenly. Kid made a non-committal sound in return.

”Byron, actually. ‘And, after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but the truth in a masquerade.’” Kid said, looking up at the moon, his own hands tucked into his pockets. He was perched on the edge of the rooftop, like a white human gargoyle. “And the best lies are based on the truth.” Kid turned and looked at Conan, the white monocle reflecting the moon’s light. “So tell me a lie.”

”What?”

”Tell me a lie.” Kid repeated. “An honest one. I’ll start.”

”I love my life.”

The words were said in such a neutral tone that it took Conan a second to realise what the thief had said. He did a double take, but the Kid’s expression was mild, just a polite little smile on his face.

Tell me a lie.

”I never lie to those I care about.” Conan said, keeping his own voice bland. _Liar. Liar, liar, pants on fire_ , his brain chanted at him.

”I have a girlfriend.” Kid said. “She **adores** the Kaitou Kid.” Liar.

”I don’t miss being Shin’ichi.” _Lie_

”I can’t decide which colour I like better. Black… or White.” There was twist of the Kid’s lips, almost a snarl as he tugged on a suit sleeve.

”Prefer grey?” Conan snickered.

One of Kid’s eyebrows rose. ”What would be the colour opposite of grey?”

”Uh… Yellow?” Conan offered. “Like, neon, fluorescent yellow?”

”Hmm.” Kid shrugged, apparently accepting this.

”I’m growing fond of red.” Conan shrugged, then motioned to Kid’s bright red scarf, the ends trailing down his front like rivulets of blood from a throat slit from ear to ear. “You should wear it more often.”

Kid glanced down at his scarf, lower lip coming out thoughtfully, and then gave a one shoulder shrug, a silent point to Conan.

”I come from a fully functional family. All my family members are alive and happy.”

Interesting. ”I love finding dead bodies. It just makes my day.”

”Every day?”

Conan glared at the Kid. “It’s not quite that bad.”

Kid held up one gloved finger. “Lie? Or Truth?”

”The Truth.” Conan growled, resisting the temptation to lean over and bite the Kid’s finger. And maybe not let go.

”I love murder as well.” Kid said turning away, lowering the tempting finger.

Conan snickered, shelling another chestnut. It was kind of freeing, to be able to speak openly, without speaking openly. “Hattori's the worst friend ever.”

"Hakuba is an complete ass."

Conan almost faltered. Did that mean that Kid thought that Hakuba wasn't? Weird. "I'm happy I see you more often than I do my parents."

"I adore Greek tragedy."

"Yeah, and I'm fond of Shakespeare."

”I love the thrill of it. It leaves me feeling charged and energized at the end of the day.”

”I don’t love Ran. At all.”

”Conan-kun?” Ran’s voice echoed out from below and a small squeak escaped from Conan’s throat. “Conan-kun, where are you?”

”Ah.” Kid said. “I’ll see you next time.”

With a cloud of silver smoke, that looked like dragon breath in winter, the Kaitou Kid vanished.

”Hey!” Conan reached out to where the thief had been. “Is the game over?”

-fin-


	6. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It's been a long time since the Kid's last visit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dang thing caught me while I was trying to sleep. Again. *yawns*

* * *

A thump on the rooftop he hasn’t heard for a while draws Conan’s attention upwards, towards the ceiling. A quick glance at Ran and Mouri show that they either didn’t hear or are ignoring it, either of which work towards his favour.

He makes his excuses and disappears upstairs. The roof is not easy to access, but it’s usually worth the trouble. He’s continued to oil the hinges that lead to the rooftop, just in case.

It’s dark, when he steps out, and it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust. When they do, he finds the Kaitou Kid curled up on the edge of the rooftop, his cape wrapped around him like a blanket, the only visible flesh being the very tip of the thief’s nose. It’s the very look of desolation, and an odd look for the usually cheerful thief.

It’s a look he never thought he’d see, especially considering the length of time since the Kid’s last visit.

After a moment’s debate, he heads back downstairs and into the kitchen. Ran was doing homework in her room, leaving him free to turn the electric kettle on for hot water. The mugs are a bit trickier to get, he’s never understood why they were always placed so high, but he gets them eventually. The instant coffee is next to the teapot and he methodically spoons a few tablespoons of the bitter crystals into the mugs.

The kettle whistles and he carefully pours the steaming water into the mugs, careful not to spill on himself, which is all too easy to do at this size. He remembers the sweets Kid usually brings over and adds sugar and milk to the thief’s cup before heading back upstairs.

It's tricky, climbing the ladder up while carrying two full mugs, but he's rather proud that he manages it without splashing hot coffee all over himself.

The Kaitou Kid hasn’t moved, which is more telling than anything else. Conan walks over to the roof’s edge, offering Kid the cup with the milk and sugar in it. “Bad day?” He inquires as the Kid reaches to take it.

”Yeah.” Kid says softly, wrapping his gloved hands around the porcelain, cradling it to his chest as if for warmth. Conan sits down next to him, sipping from his own mug as he watches the people move on the street below.

They usually fill the air with chatter and debates, but tonight the air between them is quiet, subdued, much like the thief. He knows it’s a good opportunity to turn the tables on the moonlight magician, but he’s had days like this too, where he wanted to pull the covers over his head and not leave for a while.

Which tended to be about the time Kid would show up, with his sweets and his inane questions.

The drink burns his mouth slightly, the bitter taste soothing. He’ll find out what happened in the morning, it’s not like it won’t be splashed across the pages of half a dozen newspapers, whatever happened. Kid’s luck is almost as bad as Conan’s sometimes, if not tilted towards the more bizarre.

But it’s kind of nice to have company without the pressure of conversation. To just… be. He falls into a quiet trance, thoughts flickering here and there without any real intent or pattern. It’s late, bedtime and he’s comfortably sleepy, even with the coffee.

A yawn catches him by surprise after a while and he wipes the tears from his eyes, glancing over at the Kid, to see how he’s doing. The thief is gone, leaving the mug behind where he was sitting.

Huh.

Conan carefully climbs off the ledge, wobbling slightly as he does so, but regains his balance quickly enough. He glances around, verifying that the thief is truly gone before picking up the mug, smearing any fingerprints that might have been left with his own.

The Kid’s coffee mug leaves a damp smiling face mark on the concrete.

Conan smiles back, then heads back inside, to bed. They’ll talk later.

-fin-


	7. Keep Calm and Freak Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Kid’s scarf was blue this time, cerulean, matching his hat-band and Conan felt a twinge of morbid humour at that._

* * *

The snack of choice tonight was Royal Milk Tea from a vending machine, the metal of the can almost too hot to touch. It felt good to hold though, with his breath steaming in the night cold night air as he looked over the edge of the rooftop.

It felt good to be out of the apartment for a little while. Spring was around the corner, with the promise of warmer, more pleasant weather, but for the moment, everyone was cranky with the enforced in-activity. Even the criminal element seemed to be hiding.

Save one.

Kid’s scarf was blue this time, cerulean, matching his hat-band and Conan felt a twinge of morbid humour at that. Conan had said he liked red.

He’d lied about that.

Still, he was somewhat grateful for the colour change.

“So an annoying detective of mine has started using this pen.” Kid said, nonchalantly rolling the can between his hands. “It sort of reminded me of you.”

“Oh?” Conan raised an eyebrow. A ‘detective of Kid’s’. What an interesting phrase. He wondered if this meant that he was not the only one privileged with these moonlight chats and squashed the irrational flare of jealousy that brought.

A twist of the wrist and the Kid was suddenly holding something the size and shape of a playing card in his hand. Only it was bright red, with some white text on it. Conan peered at it and Kid held it so he could read it easily.

There was a small domed crown on the top, followed by five words. ' **Keep Calm and Carry On**.'

“It’s a bit of a fad right now.” Kid explained, turning the card towards himself. “A British World War II Propaganda poster that was recently re-discovered and came into public spotlight.”

British. Hakuba, then. Kid had mentioned him before, possibly as a friend. He turned his attention back toward what Kid was saying.

"There are many parodies, and it was mentioned that this one might be more appropriate for myself."

A twist of the card and it was now blue, the same blue as Kid's scarf. The crown was upside down and the words had changed. ' **Now Panic and Freak Out**.'

"Unlikely." Conan reached over and took the card from Kid's hand. "I've never seen you panic or freak out."

"On the outside, perhaps." Kid murmured absently, but he sounded vaguely flattered. He turned the card in Conan's hand, so it was the red ' **Keep Calm and Carry On** '. "On the other hand, how often to do you detectives 'keep calm'?

"Around you?" Conan raised an eyebrow. Kid shrugged, spreading his gloved hands wide as if to proclaim his innocence. Conan snorted. "I can see your point." He said, handing the card back.

Panic, mayhem and destruction, Kid's work here was done. It was almost like a siren's call, Kid's presence, inciting rabid excitement where ever he appeared.

Well, save their conversations.

Kid crumpled the card in his hand, creasing it, then started twisting the card around like it was a Rubik's Cube. Conan could catch brief glimpses of text as Kid's nimble fingers played with it 'Freak On and Carry Out', 'Keep Out and Calm Now'.

"There." Kid held the card up for Conan to see. It was red and blue on the diagonal. "I believe this is you."

' **Now Panic and Carry On**.'

Conan laughed, but there was a harsh bark to it. It seemed like his entire life was carrying on, interspersed with moments of panic. "So yours would be-?"

Kid flipped the card over.

' **Keep Calm and Freak Out**.'

"Poker face." Kid said with a shrug. Conan snorted. There was no way to tell what the theif was really thinking, it never reached his expression. Conan reached for the card and Kid rubbed his fingers together, the card separating into two. He handed the ' **Now Panic and Carry On** ' to Conan.

"So even when it looks like you're calm, you're freaking out?" Conan inquired, flipping the card over. Blue and red ' **Keep Calm and Freak Out** ' was on the back.

"And you're not?" Kid inquired archly, the image of affronted dignity.

"Point." Conan nodded. "May I-?"

Kid motioned for him to keep it and Conan stuck it in his back pocket. He'd put it in his wallet later, a reminder to carry on. "Thank you."

"Welcome." Kid said absently, staring at his card. He looked like he was thinking about something else, someone else. Hakuba and the conversation that started it? Conan frowned in annoyance.

"So you and Hakuba-"

"Are for a different conversation." Kid said, and with a burst of smoke and confetti was gone.

-fin-

* * *

_[Keep Calm and Carry On](http://knowyourmeme.com/memes/keep-calm-and-carry-on) history and parodies. _


	8. Presentation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“So there was an American movie that recently pointed out the difference between villains and _super_ villains.”_

* * *

“So there was an American movie that recently pointed out the difference between villains and _super_ villains.” Kid said, kicking his feet as he looked up at the glow of the mostly full moon. Kid had just scheduled a heist for for when the moon was at it’s fullest. A couple of nights hence, if Conan was reading the notice right.

He was still debating if he wanted to go or not. It almost felt like he had an unfair advantage, talking to the thief like this.

At least the weather was nice, warming up into a pleasant balmy spring. Kid had brought botamochi, sticky sweet rice dumplings covered in red anzuki bean. Sakura watching food, even though the cherry blossom viewing season had just finished and it wasn’t quite Golden Week yet.

“Oh?” Conan raised an eyebrow.

Kid twisted his wrist, a can of Matcha green tea appearing in a cloud of smoke and confetti.

“Presentation.” Kid smiled broadly, his grin a white splash across his face.

Conan snorted and took the can. “Cute.” He said, inspecting the can automatically before opening it. The slightly bitter taste of the tea made a good complement to the sweet treat.

“Seriously though.” Kid opened his own can of tea and taking a sip,took a sip, losing the moment of manic energy. “Say I did what I do without the show, just break in and steal stuff with no one being the wiser. Do you think the police would take me quite as seriously as they do if I make a show of it?”

“There’s a name for criminals who do that.” Conan pointed out. “Cat-burglars.”

“But do normal cat-burglars make it onto Interpol’s most wanted list?” Kid countered.

Conan thought about it. “There was that Nightmare guy.” He’d heard some strange rumours about that thief, after his death. That Nightmare had actually been a part of Interpol. “What about that cat-burglar you went up against? Chat Noir?”

“Costumed.” Kid tugged at his cape. “What’s the first thing you picture when you think of them?”

“Hm.” Nightmare had looked like a Mardi Gras reject, while Chat Noir had looked like, well, her name. A Black Cat.

Where as the Kid was the ‘Moonlight Magician’, a magician who was clothed in moonbeams, if one were feeling poetic.

They all had themes that they played with. A form of presentation, part of what made them famous.

Aside from the fact that Kid had yet to be caught, Chat Noir retired with a flawless reputation and Nightmare had plunged to his death while in the middle of a heist.

“Okay.” Kid held up a finger, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “So what’s the difference between a Tantei and a _Mei_ tantei?”

The difference between a detective and a great detective-? Knowing Kid, it was something strange.

Number of cases was the logical answer. As was the speed at the deduction.  
Apprehension level was important as well, if you solved it, but the criminal got away, it wasn’t very useful.

But those were logical answers. Kid… wasn’t always logical.

"Instinct?” He ventured. Ability could be trained. So could observation. But there was an edge, something within some detectives that others didn’t have that tended to separate the two.

Kid tapped Conan’s nose, making him blink. “Presentation.”

“… Presentation.” Conan echoed.

“When Megure-keibu catches a criminal, what does he do?” Kid asked, then took a contented bite of his botamochi.

“Arrests them, sends them to jail.” Conan replied. It was obvious.

“Same with Nakamori-keibu.” There was that odd current of fondness, similar to that when Kid spoke of Hakuba Saguru. Kid took a sip of tea. “-Except he shouts a lot more.”

Conan laughed softly. Nakamori-keibu certainly had the worst temper out of all the police officers he knew.

“But you don’t do that.” Kid continued.

“I’m not a police detective.” Conan pointed out. “I don’t have that authority.” Wasn’t sure he wanted it, really. Too much paperwork.

“Alright, but what about those Nagoya detectives? Kan-chan and Koumei. Would you consider them tantei or meitantei?”

Conan wondered briefly if Kid had dealings with those two, then set it aside. He hadn’t heard any reports of Kid in Nagoya. “…Meitantei.” He said slowly. They were sharp, both of them. Yui wasn’t bad, but she wasn’t…. Quite on the same level. Same with most of the other officers, there was that edge to the two of them that the others didn’t quite seem to have.

It was unusual to find himself on the same level as someone else, much less two other people at he same time. Usually it was just himself and Hattori that could pull that off.

“They do the same thing that you do.” Kid outright smirked, but it wasn’t annoying, more affectionate than anything else.

Conan thought about it, but he was lost. What did that have to do with presentation? It wasn’t like he did anything flashy like Kid.

“You present it. You use your little microphones, or stand there in your little suit, and you lay it out.” Kid’s grin grew. “You don’t just solve it, you take everyone, the police, the suspects, the culprit, anyone who might be walking by, through it step by step, presenting your deductions in a theatrical event worthy of the Night Baroness herself.”

Conan found himself blushing. “I do not!” He retorted.

Kid quietly snickered to himself, pointedly eating his botamochi and letting his silence speak for itself.

“Besides.” Conan said stiffly. “We don’t have _costumes_ , like you thieves.”

One of Kid’s eyebrows seemed to flicker upwards in an ‘Oh, Yeah?’ look. Then he leaned forward and flicked Conan’s red bow tie.

Conan frowned, glancing down at his outfit. Red voicechanger bow tie, dark blue suit coat, dress shirt, lighter blue shorts, red sneakers. It was the same outfit he wore almost every single day. “And?”

Kid smoothed his own red tie against his chest. “You don’t call that a costume?”

Conan stared down at his outfit, botamochi unmindfully crushed in his hand.

… Shit.

-Fin-


End file.
